Down Time
by AmethystGleam
Summary: Shirou has a bad habit of leaving Saber alone at the house during the day. Archer decides to help her fend off some boredom. (Saber x Archer)


**Down Time  
** A Fanfic by AmethystGleam

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 _Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, only my own writing._

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The days where Shirou left her at home while he went off to work were some of the most tedious for Saber. She understood both the necessity of his labor, and her need for extra rest given his inability to support her mana usage, but there was only so much she could do when left inside these four walls.

It was only noon, and she had trained from six to nine, cleaned the house until eleven, and ate thereafter. She sat now in the dojo in perfect meditation posture, attempting to conserve the remainder of her energy until her master's return.

All was quiet.

Peaceful.

She should have been content, but the once King could not help but be _bored_.

Until he came in.

Archer made no announcement as he materialized in the dojo, his back to her as he overlooked the nearby racks of practice weapons. Though every one of her hairs stood on edge at the feeling of another servant's aura, Saber did her best not to stir from her practiced posture. Instead, she simply let out a polite exhale.

"Archer."

"Oh?" he balked, clearly humored by her tone. "Is that how you're going to greet me?"

"Did you expect me to bid you welcome? Our masters may be involved in an alliance, but that in no way means that I am expected to welcome you into this home. Especially when my master is not present."

"I see. Do not worry, Saber. I can do without your courtesy."

Despite herself, Saber felt her brow furrow at the man's implacable arrogance.

"Why are you here, Archer?" she asked, finally, hoping the inquiry might hasten his departure. "Did Rin send you?"

"In a way." Idly, Archer reached out to grasp one of the wooden practice swords in his hand, giving it a few effortless spins. "She told me to watch after Shirou Emiya."

No longer able to maintain her meditation with the sound of his false blade tearing through the air, Saber's eyes snapped open, focusing on the room's other occupant.

"If you were given such an order, then why are you still here? I have already told you that Shirou is not home."

"I am fully aware. But the way I see it, there is more than one way to carry out that order."

"I am afraid I do not comprehend your meaning, Archer."

She barely had time to register the smirk that spread across his features, before the practice sword left his hand and hurtled right at her. Immediately, she leapt to her feet, a warrior's reflexes kicking in as her clothes gave way to her armor, and her sword materialized from its hiding place, coming down to cleft the toned piece of wood into two. The sound of its remnants clattered loudly across the floor as she straightened her posture, tightening her hands around her hilt.

"You really are too on edge, you know that?" he observed, eyeing her handiwork with equal parts amusement and distaste.

"Did you come here to start a fight?" Saber queried, her request for an answer all-too-demanding.

Seeing that she had not yet grasped the meaning of his action, Archer drew two more swords from their displays. Instead of throwing them, however, he began to carry them across the room to her with a slow and purposeful stride.

"Put your weapon away before you hurt yourself," he encouraged her. "Or before I hurt you."

His threat made her throat tighten despite itself, jarring Saber only to raise her sword a little higher.

"What are you playing at?" she asked again, ready to counter whatever he might have in mind next.

When he reached arms length of her, Archer flipped one of the practice swords in his hand, catching the dull blade in his palm and extending the handle to her.

"Here," he jested. "Something a little less dangerous."

It was at this point that Saber began to understand the meaning of his initial throw. Despite its force, he had meant it to be a provoking sort of toss, and instead of catching it, she had cut it in half. An embarrassed sort of regret washed over her as she took her gaze off the other servant, and instead looked at the broken sword still lying on the ground. How was she going to explain that to Shirou?

"The way I see it…," Archer began, his voice interrupting her thoughts. "Helping you is the same as helping that boy. You are his sword and shield, are you not? Then if I strengthen you, it benefits him, as well."

Archer's logic was sound, but the condescending manner in which he had vouched it boiled dangerously at her temper.

"And what makes you think you can benefit me in any way?" she bit back, haughtily. Sure, she had become familiar with his fighting style over the course of their alliance, and the man did display an above-average level of skill, but the last thing she wanted to do was feed into his already staggering ego.

"Stop wasting all that mana on your armor and find out," he scolded her. "Or are you afraid I might hurt you without the added protection?"

It was with a scowl that Saber took a step back, lowering Excalibur and letting it return to its resting place. Her armor followed, vanishing from her body in a soft glow of mana that left only her normal clothes behind. Grimly, she extended one hand, and took the wooden sword that he offered.

"I am not afraid of you," she pronounced, loudly. "Should you betray this alliance, I would not hesitate to cut you down in order to protect Shirou and his ideals."

"How comfort-" Archer could not finish his snide rebuttal, for Saber had already leapt into action. Nimbly, he hopped back to avoid the first swing, having been caught too far off guard to raise his own blade in deflection.

"Oh? Did I upset you, Saber? Don't you usually let the other party take the first swing as some part of your knight's code?"

"I reserve such a courtesy for men of honor," Saber spat, readying her weapon for another swing. "And you yourself said you have no need of my courtesy!"

Despite himself, Archer smiled widely, pleased with this turn of events.

"So I did," he agreed, before stepping forward to bring his own sword down against hers. Their blades met with a resounding crack that shook the very air between them. Neither lingered for more than a moment, their eyes meeting fleetingly before they each stepped back to regroup. The weapons clashed again, and again, never failing to seek one another out no matter how their wielders altered their postures.

Both engaged and frustrated at her lack of progress, Saber reflexively made a quick strike towards Archer's side-a move that she had caught Shirou off guard with more times than she could have counted. To her surprise, Archer not only anticipated the move, but seeing that he could not block it with his sword, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her body off balance. Saber staggered a few paces, quickly turning and raising her weapon again before he could see more than a second of her back.

"Not finding this as easy as you thought, are you?" he teased. "And I'm only using one sword. Imagine if I had two."

"Hrmph. You speak boldly, but you are still playing at an advantage. You told me to discard of my armor, but you are still clad in your own raiment, steeped in mana that heightens all of your reflexes. Do not dare to speak down to me when your alleged upper hand is naught but a falsity."

Archer laughed, shaking his head at the king's accusations. "Is that what you think? That clothes make the man? Very well, Saber. I do not have a spare set of clothes on me as you do, but evening the odds a little seems like a more than reasonable request."

In a smooth motion, he once more tossed his weapon to Saber. She caught it this time, watching as his newly freed hands made short work of his jacket and top. He could have dismissed them simply by bending his mana, but the man had made it a _point_ to show off, even going so far as to fold the garments before tossing them aside.

Saber had not meant to stare, but it was impossible not to. Archer was finely built, his muscles not over-pronounced, but nicely toned enough where they fit well to his lithe form. His skin was smooth and undoubtedly perfect, healed so many times over the years by regeneration. He extended his hand to her, waiting for her to toss back his sword. His smirk indicated that her fascination with him had not gone unnoticed.

"Like what you see?" he questioned with a laugh, catching the sword when she hurled it back roughly in embarrassment.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before!" she uttered snappily. "I was just confused as to why you didn't simply _dismiss_ the upper part of your armor. That's all!"

"Why waste mana dismissing something I'll just be putting back on when I've defeated you?"

Saber felt her face grow red. What was it about Archer that kept getting so easily under her skin? It wasn't as though she'd even willed her body to resume the fight, it simply did so on its own, as she led the offensive with her wooden katana. Archer parried her once more, this time sidestepping her and aligning his foot to catch her ankle. When she tumbled, he caught her by the arm, holding her at an angle that dangled precariously between him and the floor.

"I really don't think you're focusing," he mocked, tilting her chin up to look at him with the dull edge of his blade. "I expect a lot more out of you than this."

Quietly, Saber closed her eyes for a moment, letting out the softest of exhales as she began to straighten out her failing concentration. In not but a moment, she found her balance, using her weight to pull Archer down on top of her, catching him on her knees and monkey-flipping him over her back. His body twisted nimbly in mid-air like a cat, and he landed in a crouch as he barely caught himself in time.

"….That's more like it."

He was the one to lead the offensive this time, using his speed and the momentum behind his actions to try and combat her raw strength. Her eyes followed his every movement with a practiced fervor, and before long the two of them were caught in an exchange of blows that put even the most elegant battle-dances to shame.

Where swords failed to make progress, they began to reach out for one another-Saber hooked an arm around Archer's waist, ducking under his sword and shoulder-slamming him off balance. He fell ungracefully onto his rear, but reached out for her immediately, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her down with him. She skidded to her knees, sharply jutting out her elbow to catch him in the face, but he ducked under it, driving his face against her chest in order to slam her back flat into the floor.

Immediately, she brought the pommel off her sword up to clock him in the head with it, but he caught the blade with his own, struggling to hold her free hand down against the floor all the while. Not content to take a loss, Saber pushed up sharply with her hips, bouncing Archer off her just enough where she could turn onto her side and reverse their positions. He made an attempted grab for her neck, but she moved and his fingers only caught the ribbon that held up her hair. He ripped the binding clear away from her, sending her braid down across her back.

"Give up, Archer!" she growled, relatively unsure how this had degenerated from a proper duel into an all-out wrestling match.

"Do I look like I'm losing to you?" he balked in return, struggling to roll her off of him. They were both covered in a fine sheen of sweat from the exertion; Saber could see Archer's heavy breaths through the rise and fall of his chest, but the swordswoman seemed to maintain a stricter sort of control, her breathing deep but even as she glowered down at her opponent.

"Yes," she said, defiantly. "You do." Putting all her strength into her arm, she delivered a crack to Archer's sword that would have torn it easily from the hands of any mortal man. Stubbornly, however, he managed to maintain his grip, smirking a little dangerously when he caught a glimpse of her surprise.

"….There you go," he balked, the sweat dripping some of his normally spiky locks down against his forehead. "Underestimating me again."

For the barest of moments, he looked like someone else. Someone uncomfortably familiar, and Saber recoiled, as if she had made a terrible mistake. Archer, however, would not be stopped. He took to her weakness relentlessly, discarding his sword so that he could grab her by the backs of her knees and flip her right onto her spine. She howled out in surprise as she fell, dropping her own sword to reach both hands forward against his shoulders as he leaned over her, her legs embarrassingly spread to either side of him.

"Arc-"

His hands left her legs, quickly grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head. He interrupted her cry of his name with a low growl.

"Yield, Saber. I've won."

There was still a battle going on, but suddenly, Saber felt completely out of her element. A sense of panic welled up within her, as her more feminine side became painfully aware of their positioning. She could feel the heat rushing to her face as her eyes drank in the sight of him shirtless and atop her, kneeling between her legs. His face was mere inches from hers, his dark brown eyes seeming to drink her every thought when only she met them. Secretly, she prayed he wouldn't make a smarmy comment about this. Less secretly, she tried to make sense of her scrambled mind, seeking to fathom a reversal for this position.

He once more interrupted her thoughts, by jostling her in both body and voice:

"Saber!" Archer demanded, as if reminding her of the fastest way to break free of his hold. "Yield!"

She gasped when he bounced her just slightly with his knee, her mind still going a mile a minute. What would Shirou say if he walked in on them like this? What would her pride say if she conceded to Archer? Why was she getting so flustered by someone she clearly detests body and soul?

Above her, Archer sighed, his breath softly stirring the hair out of her face.

"You really are… too on edge for your own good," he reiterated, leaning down to close the distance between them. His lips touched hers softly, and only for a moment, before he stood, leaving her disheveled on the floor.

"….Your master has returned," he uttered, bending to retrieve his shirt from nearby. "And I have my proof of victory. If you're dissatisfied…. then be sure to put up more of a fight next time."

And as suddenly as he had arrived, he was gone…


End file.
